the eyes and said there was nothing between him and Nikki. He could not because there was. I grabbed my keys and my purse and walked out the front door without telling him where I was going.
He did not ask. He did not even look up from the TV. Nikki’s apartment was twenty minutes away.
I knew the route by heart because I had driven there dozens of times with groceries when she said she could not afford food, with furniture when she said her place looked too empty, with a check for her security deposit when she first moved in because she had blown through her savings on a trip to Cabo with friends. She had called me crying two years earlier, saying she was about to be homeless. I co-signed her lease.
I covered her security deposit. I set up automatic transfers for her rent because she said dealing with money stressed her out. Two years.
Twenty-four thousand dollars, plus her car insurance, plus her phone bill, plus random checks whenever she said she was struggling. I added it up once and stopped because the number made me sick. And the whole time I was funding her life, she was using that freedom to build a secret relationship with my husband.
Every hour I spent at work to cover her bills was an hour she spent in my house with Damen. I parked in front of her building and took the stairs two at a time. It was almost eleven at night, and I did not care.
I banged on her door hard enough that her neighbor opened theirs to see what was happening. “Nikki, open the door now.”
I heard movement inside. Footsteps.
Then her voice, high and nervous. “Carissa, what are you doing here?”
“Open the door, or I’ll keep knocking until someone calls the cops.”
The lock clicked, and the door opened three inches. Nikki’s face appeared in the gap, pale and scared.
“It’s late. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“No.”
I pushed the door open, and she stumbled backward as I walked into the apartment I funded. “We’re talking right now.”
“You can’t just barge in here.”
“I pay your rent.
I can do whatever I want.”
I looked around at the furniture I had helped her pick out, the TV I had bought her for Christmas, the couch where she had probably sat texting my husband while I was at work paying for all of it. “How long?”
Nikki wrapped her arms around herself. “How long what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.
How long have you been having an affair with Damen?”
“I’m not having an affair with Damen. I told you, it was just rehearsal. Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because I saw your face when he touched you.
I saw how natural it looked. That wasn’t acting, Nikki. That was muscle memory.
That was something you’ve done so many times your body did it without thinking.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“Am I? Then explain why you know so much about my husband. Explain why you two have inside jokes I’ve never heard.
Explain why he defends you more than he has ever defended me.”
Nikki’s eyes darted toward her phone on the counter, looking for backup. Looking for Damen to tell her what to say. “He’s not coming to save you,” I said.
“I left him on the couch. It’s just you and me. Sister to sister.
Tell me the truth.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Fine. Then tell me this.” I stepped closer and watched her step back. “What’s the birthmark on his left hip shaped like?”
Nikki’s face went white.
For one second, she forgot to lie, and I saw the answer in her eyes before she covered it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about because you’ve seen it.
You’ve been close enough to my husband to know things only his wife should know.”
“He showed me a photo once. It was a joke.”
“Damen has never taken a photo of that birthmark in his life. He’s self-conscious about it.
He barely lets me see it.”
I laughed, and it sounded unhinged even to me. “But you know what it looks like because you’ve been with him. How long, Nikki?
How long have you been betraying me with my husband in the apartment I pay for?”
She did not answer. She just stood there with her arms wrapped around herself and tears starting to form in her eyes. The same tears she had used a hundred times to get out of trouble.
The same performance she had been running since we were kids. “I’m done,” I said. “Your rent payment stops today.
Your car insurance stops today. Everything I’ve been paying for stops today. You want to take my husband?
Fine. But you’re going to do it without my money.”
“Carissa, wait. You can’t just cut me off.
I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You should have thought about that before you decided to destroy my marriage.”
I walked out and slammed the door behind me. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold my keys. I sat in my car for five minutes just breathing, just trying to process what I had confirmed.
My husband. My sister. In my house.
On my money. Behind my back. And they still expected me to stay home while they played happy couple at his reunion.
That was when the idea hit me. Damen wanted to bring my sister as his fake wife. Fine.
Then I would bring his brother as my date. Jackson. The one who had done everything right while Damen floated through life on charm and other people’s money.
Jackson had started his own business at twenty-five. He owned his house outright. He had offered Damen a job three different times, and Damen had turned him down each time because he said he could not work for his brother.
The truth was that Damen could not stand being around someone who made him look bad just by existing. They barely spoke anymore. Jackson came to Christmas and Thanksgiving, and that was it.
He was always polite to me at family events, and that was enough to convince me to go through with this. I would walk into that reunion on Jackson’s arm and watch Damen’s face when he realized his wife showed up with the one person he could never measure up to. I pulled out my phone and found Jackson’s number.
We had exchanged contacts years ago, but we had never actually texted. I stared at the screen for a long time before typing. “Hi, Jackson.
This is Carissa. I know this is random, but I need a favor. A big one.
Can we meet tomorrow? Please don’t tell Damen I reached out.”
I hit send before I could talk myself out of it. A minute passed.
Then two. I was about to start the car when my phone buzzed. “Is everything okay?”
I typed back, “No.
That’s why I need your help.”
Three dots appeared. Then his response came, telling me to meet him for coffee tomorrow morning. Jackson met me at the coffee shop the next morning and listened to everything without interrupting once.
When I finished, he did not tell me I was being dramatic. He did not make excuses for his brother. He just asked what I needed.
And what I needed was simple. Damen had spent ten years making me feel invisible. He had spent months sneaking around with my sister while I paid for their lives.
Now I was going to make him feel exactly what I felt. Paranoid. Jealous.
Desperate for answers he was not going to get. Jackson was happy to help. The next morning, I was putting on mascara when Damen appeared in the bathroom doorway.
“You’re up early.”
His eyes moved over my outfit, the nice blouse, the jewelry I never wore anymore. “Where are you going?”
“Coffee with Jackson.”
The name landed like a grenade. His whole body went rigid.
Jackson was the one person in the world who made Damen feel like nothing. Their parents had spent thirty years comparing them, and Damen lost every single time. Jackson built a company while Damen could not keep a cashier job.
Jackson owned his house while Damen lived in mine. Every family dinner reminded him he was the disappointment, and he had hated his brother for it since they were kids. “Cancel it.”
I kept applying mascara.
“I wasn’t asking.”
He stepped into the bathroom and grabbed my phone off the counter before I could stop him. “What’s his number? I’ll cancel it myself.”
“Give me my phone, Damen.”
“Or what?”
He held it above his head like we were children fighting over a toy.
“What are you going to do about it?”
I set down my mascara and looked at him. Really looked at him. This man I had given ten years to.
This man who could not even let me have coffee without throwing a tantrum. “I’m going to walk out of this house. I’m going to meet your brother.
And when I get back, you’re going to give me my phone and apologize for acting like a child.”
I grabbed my keys off the counter. “Keep the phone. I’ll get a new one.”
His arm dropped.
“Carissa, wait.”
I did not wait. Jackson was already at the coffee shop when I arrived. He stood when he saw me and pulled me into a hug that lasted longer than it should have.
He smelled expensive and clean, nothing like Damen’s cheap cologne that had irritated my nose for a decade. “You okay?” he asked as we sat down. “You look upset.”
“Your brother took my phone hostage because I wanted to have coffee with you.”
Jackson’s jaw tightened.
“That sounds like him.”
“Does it? Because for ten years, I thought I was married to a reasonable person. Turns out I was married to a toddler who throws fits when he doesn’t get his way.”
“He’s always been like that.
He just hides it well at first.”
Jackson slid a coffee across the table. “I ordered your usual. Hope that’s okay.”
“How do you know my usual?”
“You’ve ordered the same thing at every family gathering for five years.
Vanilla latte, extra shot, oat milk.” He shrugged. “I pay attention.”
Something in my chest cracked open. Damen did not know my coffee order.
We had been married ten years, and he still asked me every single time like the information would not stick. I told Jackson everything. The proposal story, the almost kiss on the couch, the birthmark slip, and the way Damen had been twisting reality around me for months while carrying on with my sister right under my nose.
By the time I finished, my coffee was cold and my voice was hoarse. “I want him to feel what I felt,” I said. “Paranoid.
Jealous. Going out of his mind wondering what’s happening. I need you around.
Pick me up for dinners. Text me when he’s watching. Make him wonder.”
Jackson was quiet for a moment.
His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. “I’m in,” he said. “Whatever you need.”
When I got home three hours later, Damen was sitting in the dark living room like a horror movie villain.
“Three hours.” His voice was flat. “You were gone three hours.”
“We had a lot to talk about.”
“About what? About me?
About how terrible I am?”
“Not everything is about you, Damen.”
I held out my hand. “Phone.”
He pulled it from his pocket and threw it at me. Actually threw it.
I caught it against my chest. “There’s your precious phone. Check your messages.
I’m sure Jackson’s been texting you nonstop like the desperate loser he is.”
“The only desperate person in this room is you.”
I walked past him toward the stairs. “I’m taking a shower. Try not to have a meltdown while I’m gone.”
The first dinner with Jackson was on Friday.
I wore the black dress Damen said was too much for a Tuesday. I did my hair the way I used to before I stopped trying. When I came downstairs, Damen stood up so fast his chair fell over.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes. Absolutely yes.”
“You’re not leaving this house dressed like that to meet my brother.”
“Watch me.”
He grabbed my arm hard, hard enough that I knew there would be bruises tomorrow.
“I said no.”
“And I said yes. Let go of me.”
“Make me.”
I looked at his hand on my arm, then at his face. Then I screamed.
One loud, sharp scream that echoed through the house and probably reached the neighbors. He let go instantly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.
I just wanted to see how fast you’d release me if you thought someone might hear.”
I smoothed my dress. “Now you know. And now I know exactly how to handle you.”
Jackson’s headlights swept across the window.
I walked out without looking back. Dinner was incredible. Not the food, though that was good too.
The conversation. The way Jackson asked about my work and actually listened. The way he remembered details from years ago that Damen had never bothered to learn.
The way he looked at me like I was someone worth looking at. “Friday again?” he asked when he dropped me off. “Friday again.”
The second dinner was even better.
We closed down the restaurant talking about everything and nothing. He kissed my cheek when he walked me to the door, and I felt it for hours afterward. The third dinner was when everything changed.
I came home at midnight expecting Damen to be pacing or sulking or throwing things. Instead, I found him on the couch with Nikki curled up against his side. Her shoes were off.
Her head was on his shoulder. They were watching a movie like this was completely normal. “Oh, hey.” Damen did not even look at me.
“How was your date?”
I stood in the doorway trying to process what I was seeing. “What is she doing here?”
“Nikki? She came over to keep me company since my wife is never home anymore.”
Nikki finally looked at me.
No guilt on her face. No embarrassment. Just a smug little smile that made me want to cross the room and wipe it away.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. “Damen was lonely. I figured someone should be here for him since you’re always running off with Jackson.”
“Get out of my house.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.
Get out.”
Nikki laughed. “You can’t kick me out. This is Damen’s house too.”
“No, it isn’t.
His name isn’t on the deed. His name isn’t on the mortgage. His name isn’t on anything because he hasn’t worked in three years.”
I dropped my purse on the table.
“So I’ll say it again. Get out of my house.”
Damen finally stood up. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
“Like what?
Like she’s the woman having an affair with my husband?”
“Nobody’s having an affair with anybody.”
He moved between me and Nikki like he was protecting her. “We’re friends, that’s all. Just like you and Jackson are friends, right?”
The hypocrisy was so thick I could taste it.
“You’re seriously doing this right now? After everything you said to me about Jackson? After grabbing me and yelling at me and calling me desperate?”
“That was different.”
“How?
Explain to me how this is different.”
“Because I’m not trying to hurt you.” He stepped closer. “Everything I’ve done has been about protecting our marriage. You’re the one running around with my brother trying to humiliate me.”
“Protecting our marriage?”
I laughed.
“Is that what you call rehearsing your fake wedding with my sister? Using our proposal story for her? Almost kissing her on our couch?”
Nikki stood up from the couch.
“That’s not what happened.”
“Really? Because I watched it happen, Nikki. I stood in that hallway and watched him lean into you like you were a magnet and he couldn’t help himself.”
“You’re being dramatic.
It was rehearsal.”
“Rehearsal for what exactly? Last time I checked, couples don’t almost kiss during practice unless they actually want to kiss.”
“Maybe if you paid more attention to your husband, he wouldn’t need to practice with someone else.”
The words hung in the air. Nikki’s eyes were hard.
No sisterly love there. No guilt. Just cold satisfaction at finally saying what she had been thinking.
“There it is.” I nodded slowly. “That’s what you really think, isn’t it? That this is my fault.
That I drove him to you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You just did.”
Damen put his hand on Nikki’s arm. Gentle. Protective.
The way he used to touch me before he stopped pretending I mattered. “Carissa, you need to calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. You invited my sister into our home to make me jealous, and now you’re standing there holding her arm like she’s the victim.”
I looked between them.
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long have you two been involved? And don’t lie to me. I already know about the birthmark.”
Nikki’s face went pale.
She looked at Damen. He looked at the floor. “That’s what I thought.”
I grabbed my purse off the table.
“I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight. When I wake up tomorrow, she better be gone.”
“You can’t just kick her out,” Damen said. “I can do whatever I want.
It’s my house, remember?”
I started toward the stairs, but Nikki’s voice stopped me. “You think you’re so much better than everyone, don’t you?”
Her voice was shaking now with anger. With something else I could not name.
“The successful attorney with the big house and the fancy career. You’ve always looked down on me. Always treated me like I was less than you.”
I turned around slowly.
“I paid your rent for two years, Nikki. I paid your car insurance, your phone bill. I gave you three thousand dollars last Christmas because you said you were struggling.”
I stepped closer.
“And the whole time, you were betraying me with my husband and laughing at me behind my back.”
“I wasn’t laughing.”
“Then what were you doing? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you took everything I gave you and used it to steal my life.”
“I didn’t steal anything.” Her voice cracked. “You were never going to lose him.
He was always going to stay with you. The money, the house, the stability. That’s what he wants.
I was just the one he actually loved.”
The confession hit me like a truck. Not because it hurt. Because it did not.
Somewhere along the way, I had stopped caring whether Damen loved me. I just wanted him to pay for what he had done. “Loved,” I repeated.
Nikki blinked. “What?”
“You said loved, not loves. Loved.”
I looked at Damen.
“Is that true? Did you love her?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
Opened it again. Nothing came out. “Damen,” Nikki said, her voice small now.
“Tell her.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Tell her you love me. Tell her I’m not just some mistake. Tell her what you told me when we were alone.”
Damen ran his hand through his hair, that nervous gesture he did when he was cornered.
“Nikki, this isn’t the time.”
“Then when is the time? She already knows. Everyone already knows.”
Nikki grabbed his arm.
He pulled away from her. Actually pulled away. “I need some air.”
He walked out the back door and into the yard, leaving Nikki standing in the middle of my living room with tears streaming down her face.
“He loves me,” she whispered. “He told me he loves me.”
“Men say a lot of things, Nikki, especially when they want something.”
I watched her crumble. I watched the reality hit her that she was never going to be his wife, that she had thrown away her relationship with her sister for a man who could not even say he loved her out loud.
“How does it feel to realize you were just the hidden woman this whole time?”
“That’s not what I was.”
“That’s exactly what you were. The exciting secret. The forbidden choice.
The reason he could tolerate being married to me.”
I picked up my purse. “But secrets don’t stay secrets forever. And now he has to choose.
Do you really think he’s going to pick you over everything I provide?”
Nikki did not answer. She just stood there crying while I walked upstairs to the guest room. I pulled out my phone and texted Jackson.
“She was here when I got home, curled up with him on the couch like she belonged there.”
His response came in seconds. “Are you okay?”
“Better than okay. He just showed me exactly who he is.
And she just realized she was never going to win.”
“What happened?”
“She told me he loved her. He couldn’t even say it back. Just walked out of the room and left her standing there crying.”
“He’s a coward.”
“He’s worse than a coward.
He’s a man who doesn’t know what he wants and destroys everyone around him trying to figure it out.”
“Dinner tomorrow?”
I smiled at my phone in the dark guest room. I could hear Nikki’s car starting in the driveway, hear Damen’s footsteps on the back porch, hear the muffled sound of him calling her name as she drove away. “Pick me up at seven,” I typed back.
“And Jackson, thank you for being the one good thing in all of this.”
“Always,” he replied. Damen begged Nikki back within forty-eight hours. I heard him on the phone promising her everything would be different, promising the reunion would prove how much she meant to him.
He thought I did not know they had patched things up. He thought I did not see her car parked two streets over when she snuck in through the back. He thought he was being clever.
They both did. The reunion was tomorrow night. They had their plan, their rehearsed story, their matching outfits.
What they did not know was that I had a plan too. And mine was going to burn theirs to the ground. Two days later, I was folding laundry when I heard Damen’s voice drifting up from the backyard.
I moved to the window and watched him pace by the fence with his phone pressed to his ear. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you.
But Nikki, please. The reunion is in five days, and I need you there.”
A pause. “Because you’re the only one who understands.
Because I love you. I was just too scared to say it in front of her.”
There it was. The confession he could not give when she was standing in our living room crying.
He saved it for the phone call where he thought no one was listening. “Friday night, I’ll pick you up at six. Wear the green dress we picked out.”
Another pause.
Then softer. “I promise this time will be different. After the reunion, everything changes.
You’ll see.”
He hung up, and I stepped back from the window before he could look up. My hands were not shaking anymore. They had not shaken in weeks.
Something had hardened inside me since the night Nikki drove away crying. Something cold and patient and ready. I picked up my phone and texted Jackson.
“They’re back together. He just told her he loves her.”
“I’m perfect.
The reunion is Friday. Pick me up at seven.”
“What’s the plan?”
I smiled at my phone. “You’ll see.”
Friday arrived fast.
I spent the afternoon getting ready. Hair done at the salon Damen said was too expensive. Nails painted the red he said was too bold.
Makeup done by a professional because tonight I was not just showing up. I was making an entrance. The dress was new.
Black, cut low enough to turn heads and high enough to stay classy. I had bought it with the credit card Damen did not know existed, the one I had opened when I first started suspecting something was wrong. Jackson picked me up at exactly seven.
Charcoal suit, perfect hair, the kind of man who made other men feel small just by standing next to them. When I opened the door, his eyes moved over me slowly. “You look incredible.”
“I know.”
I grabbed my clutch off the table, ready to crash a party.
The reunion was at a hotel downtown. Chandeliers, valet parking, waiters with champagne on silver trays. Through the windows, I could see the crowd: Damen’s old classmates in their nicest clothes, trying to prove the last ten years had been kind to them.
“You sure about this?” Jackson asked as he handed his keys to the valet. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
We walked in together, his hand on the small of my back, my chin up. The room was packed with people I had never met, telling stories about a version of my husband I did not recognize.
The confident, popular guy who had everything figured out. The man who married the beautiful Nikki and lived happily ever after. I spotted them before they spotted me.
Damen was wearing the suit I had bought him for our anniversary. Nikki was in the green dress they had rehearsed. Her hand was on his arm, and she was laughing at something one of his friends said, playing the part of the perfect wife just like they had practiced in my living room.
Then Damen looked up. His face went through five emotions in two seconds. Confusion.
Recognition. Horror. Panic.
And then something that looked a lot like fear when he realized who was standing next to me. “Carissa.”
His voice cracked on my name. “Hey, honey.” I smiled wide enough for the whole room to see.
“Surprised?”
The crowd around them went quiet. People turned to look. Whispers started spreading like fire through dry grass.
“What are you doing here?” Damen’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m meeting my husband’s old friends. Isn’t that what wives do at reunions?”
I looked at Nikki.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something?”
Nikki’s face had gone pale. She was staring at Jackson like she had seen a ghost.
“Who’s this?” one of Damen’s friends asked, stepping forward. He was a big guy with a friendly smile, completely oblivious to the bomb that was about to go off. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“I’m Carissa.” I extended my hand.
“Damen’s wife. His actual wife. The one he’s been married to for the last ten years.”
The friend’s smile faltered.
“I thought Nikki was his wife.”
“That’s funny, because Nikki is my sister, and she’s been carrying on with my husband for the past year while I paid her rent.”
The whispers turned into gasps. Damen grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away from the crowd. “Carissa, stop.
You’re embarrassing yourself.”
I pulled my arm free. “I’m embarrassing you. There’s a difference.”
“Who’s he?” another friend asked, pointing at Jackson.
“Why is he here?”
“This is Jackson. Damen’s brother. The successful one.
The one your friend here has been jealous of since they were kids.”
I looked at Damen. “Should I tell them why you hate him so much, or should I let them figure it out?”
“Carissa, please.” Damen’s voice was desperate now. “Can we talk about this somewhere private?”
“Private?
You’ve been lying to these people for ten years. You told them you married the prettier sister. You told them Nikki was your wife.
You used our proposal story for her.”
I turned to face the crowd. “Does anyone here want to see pictures from our actual wedding? Because I have them on my phone.”
Hands went up.
People crowded around. I pulled up photo after photo. Me in the white dress.
Me and Damen at the altar. Me cutting the cake while Nikki stood in the background as a bridesmaid. “That’s Nikki,” I said, pointing at the screen.
“The woman he’s been parading around tonight as his wife. My sister. My maid of honor.
The woman I trusted more than anyone in the world.”
Nikki finally found her voice. “Carissa, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it looks like you’re wearing the dress you rehearsed in my living room.
It looks like you’re holding my husband’s arm. It looks like you came here tonight planning to pretend you were me.”
I stepped closer to her. “How does it feel, Nikki, to finally get what you wanted and have it blow up in your face?”
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Then what did you want?
Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you wanted my husband, my life, my proposal story, everything that was mine.”
“He told me you didn’t appreciate him. He told me your marriage was over. He told me you were just staying together for convenience.”
“And you believed him?” I laughed.
“The man who can’t hold a job? The man who lives in my house and drives my car and hasn’t paid a bill in three years? That’s the man you trusted to tell you the truth about our marriage?”
Nikki looked at Damen, waiting for him to defend her, to say something, to do anything.
He did not. “Damen.” Her voice was small. “Tell them.”
“Tell them what you told me, Nikki.”
“I…” He ran his hand through his hair.
That nervous gesture. That coward’s tell. “I think we should all just calm down.”
“Calm down?” Nikki’s voice rose.
“You told me you loved me. You told me after the reunion everything would change. You told me we were going to be together.”
The crowd was eating this up.
Phones were out. People were recording. Damen’s carefully constructed lie was crumbling in real time, and everyone was watching.
“Is that true?” the big friendly guy asked, stepping forward again. “Damen, you told us you and Nikki had been married for ten years. You showed us pictures.
You talked about your honeymoon.”
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
I crossed my arms. “Explain to your friends why you’ve been lying to them. Explain why your actual wife is standing here with your brother while the woman in your secret relationship wears the dress you picked out together.
Explain why you’re such a coward that you couldn’t even tell the truth to people you’ve known since high school.”
Damen opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Nothing came out. Jackson stepped forward and put his hand on my back. “I think we’re done here.”
“Almost.”
I reached into my clutch and pulled out the envelope I had been carrying all night.
“One more thing.”
I handed it to Damen. He stared at it like it might bite him. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
His hands shook as he tore the envelope open, pulled out the papers inside, and read the first line.
His face went gray. “Divorce papers.” I smiled. “My lawyer drew them up last week.
You have thirty days to respond.”
“Carissa, wait. We can work this out. We can go to counseling.
We can—”
I cut him off. “We can’t, because I don’t want to work it out. I don’t want counseling.
I don’t want to spend another minute of my life with a man who told everyone he married the prettier sister while I paid for everything he owns.”
I turned to Nikki. “And you. I hope he was worth it because you just lost your sister, your rent payments, your car insurance, everything I gave you because I thought family meant something.”
I shook my head.
“Good luck figuring out how to survive without me.”
Jackson took my hand, and we walked toward the door. The crowd parted for us. No one tried to stop us.
No one defended Damen. They just watched as his entire world collapsed around him. At the door, I stopped and looked back one last time.
Damen was still holding the divorce papers. Nikki was crying. His friends were staring at him like they had never seen him before.
“By the way,” I called out. “The house is in my name. So is the car.
So is everything. You have until the end of the month to get your things out.”
I walked out into the cool night air with Jackson beside me. The valet brought the car around.
Jackson opened my door, and I slid into the passenger seat. “How do you feel?” he asked as we pulled away from the hotel. I watched the building shrink in the side mirror.
I thought about everything I had just done, everything I had just destroyed, everything I was about to build in its place. “Free,” I said. “I feel free.”
Damen moved out three weeks later.
I watched from the bedroom window as he loaded boxes into a rental truck. Not his car, because that was in my name. Not with help from his friends, because most of them had stopped returning his calls after the reunion.
Just him alone in the driveway, carrying the pieces of a life he had spent ten years pretending to deserve. He knocked on the door before he left. I opened it but did not let him inside.
“I just wanted to say goodbye,” he said. His eyes were red. He looked like he had not slept in days.
“And that I’m sorry for everything.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it? Just okay?”
“What do you want me to say, Damen? That I forgive you?
That I hope you find happiness?”
I leaned against the doorframe. “I don’t. I hope you spend the rest of your life remembering what you threw away.
I hope every time something good happens to you, there’s a little voice in the back of your head reminding you that you don’t deserve it.”
He flinched like I had hit him. “You’ve changed.”
“No. I just stopped pretending to be someone I’m not so you could feel better about yourself.”
I stepped back and put my hand on the door.
“Goodbye, Damen.”
I closed it before he could respond. Nikki called me twice that first week. I did not answer.
She left voicemails asking if we could talk, asking if there was any way to fix things between us, asking if I could at least keep paying her rent until she figured things out. I deleted them without listening past the first few words. A month later, she showed up at my door.
I saw her through the peephole and did not open it. She stood there for ten minutes knocking and calling my name before she finally gave up and left. Two months after that, I heard through a cousin that she and Damen had tried to make it work.
They moved into a tiny apartment on the cheaper side of town. Damen got a job at a warehouse making twelve dollars an hour. Nikki picked up shifts at a restaurant where the tips barely covered gas.
The dream life they had rehearsed in my living room turned into arguments about bills and whose turn it was to buy groceries. They broke up before their lease was even signed. Nikki moved back in with our parents.
Damen disappeared somewhere nobody bothered to track. Jackson and I took things slow. Dinners turned into weekends.
Weekends turned into trips. The trip to Italy I had always wanted finally happened. We spent two weeks eating pasta and drinking wine and not talking about Damen once.
Six months after the reunion, Jackson asked me to move in with him. I said yes without hesitating because I knew he actually wanted me for life.
